


Miscalculation

by LostCol



Series: TOWJLHH [3]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Deaf Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, POV First Person, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostCol/pseuds/LostCol
Summary: I felt all the blood drain from my face when he said “overdose”, and I saw it drain from Justin’s a few seconds later when I signed it to him.Brian makes a really dumb mistake.(Don't worry, everyone's okay!)
Relationships: Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk), Brian Kinney/Original Male Character, Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: TOWJLHH [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627354
Comments: 20
Kudos: 50





	Miscalculation

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The One Where Justin Loses His Hearing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14677227) by [LaVieEnRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaVieEnRose/pseuds/LaVieEnRose). 



> Ages ago, I saw a comment asking LaVieEnRose if there would be any sick Brian stories in this verse, and the answer was basically no. I figured I’d give it a shot, and as you can see from the 11,000ish word count, it got completely out of hand. Whoops. ;)  
> The tricky part was that whatever befell Brian couldn’t be contagious, for obvious reasons, it couldn’t be chronic or long-term, and I wanted something more intense than a broken bone. So here we are. It’s necessarily fairly angsty, but I’m obviously not going to do any long-term damage to our boys. And there is some levity, especially in the second half. And I love Evan, so his POV was so much fun to write.

_1:00 a.m._

Fuck fuck fuck fuck _FUCK._

I was lowering Brian onto the couch when Justin shuffled into the living room, disheveled and flushed, obviously having just woken up. I hated waking him when he’d been struggling with insomnia for weeks, but since this definitely qualified as an emergency, I’d slammed the front door as hard as I could on the way in, hoping he’d feel the vibration.

He looked between me and Brian, confused, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, before squinting at Brian and then looking back at me.

**What the fuck’s going on?** he asked, hurrying to the couch and kneeling next to Brian. **What happened? What’s wrong with him?**

He was talking to me without taking his eyes off Brian’s face, so I couldn’t answer. I watched him say “Brian” a few times, loudly, brushing the hair off his forehead and stroking his cheek, and when there was no response, he finally looked up at me with huge eyes. He looked so fucking scared.

**He took something in the back room. He’s having a really bad reaction to it, or something.**

**WHAT?! WHAT THE—**

**He came out of the back, and he wanted to leave, he looked scared. He… he blacked out in the cab and then he woke up asking for you, he was confused.** He’d been leaning against me with his forehead against my neck, and when he startled awake, he’d looked at me wide-eyed, signing **Justin?** and **Sunshine?** against my face, breathing in this panicky way. He wasn’t signing it like he thought I _was_ Justin, but like he was saying, _where is he? I want him._ **I should have just taken him to the hospital, but he wanted you, and he was scared, and we were already on the way here—**

**Fuck, okay, we’re going to the hospital.**

Well of course we were, but I’d had a few drinks, and half a tab of E.

**I can’t drive, I’ve been—**

**No it’s fine, I’ll drive. You’ll be next to me in case something happens, but I feel fine.**

Fine by me, honestly. The hospital’s not far.

Justin rushed around grabbing his wallet and one of his masks while I stood there uselessly ringing my hands, and he was putting on his shoes when he stopped suddenly and turned to me.

**He’s just been like this, right?**

**Well, he’s been conscious on and off, but—**

**No, I mean, he’s been breathing okay the whole time? And he hasn’t… he hasn’t had a seizure, or anything?**

Oh god, he _hates_ seizures. Almost as much as he hates the thought of someone he loves having one, and the dread on his face broke my heart.

**No, no, nothing like that. He’s okay,** I said, which obviously wasn’t even a little bit true, but I think I needed to hear it, too.

Brian startled awake when we started sitting him up, and I knew he recognized Justin by the way he tried so hard to focus on him. Justin said “hey, baby,” really gently, and I’d never seen him call Brian that before. In all the time I’d known them, I’d seen Justin call him ‘Brian’, ‘asshole,’ and once or twice, ‘Mr. Kinney,’ which he does sarcastically, when Brian’s bossing him around, and seductively. I don’t think he knows I’ve seen that one.

Brian signed **Hey** , but he looked so confused and scared, and I’d only seen Brian that scared a few times, when Justin’s been really sick, and it was kind of messing with me.

Justin kept talking while we pulled Brian up, and I wondered in passing if it was because his hand had been acting up – and so he maybe probably definitely _shouldn’t_ drive – or because he could see how fucked up Brian was and wanted to make things as easy and comfortable for him as possible. I chose to believe it was the latter.

“We’re going to go make you feel better, okay?”

**What?** Brian asked vaguely, touching Justin’s cheek and searching his face.

“Come on, let’s go.”

God, he was speaking so gently. He’s almost never like this with Brian in front of me, and never in front of anyone else as far as I can tell, and I wondered fleetingly if Brian would be embarrassed if he grasped everything that was going on. As it was, I wasn’t even sure he knew I was there.

Justin and I supported him between us and managed to get him into the backseat of the car, where he curled in on himself and closed his eyes. I sat sideways with one leg up on the passenger seat so I could keep an eye on both of them. Brian picked his head up once and signed **Sunshine?** at me in that same panicky way, so I pointed to Justin, and Brian’s eyes followed my gesture. He just stared at the back of Justin’s head until his eyes closed again, and I didn’t like that one bit. I mean Jesus, Justin falls asleep everywhere all the time, I’m used to that, but Brian, like, literally couldn’t stay conscious because of the drugs in his system, and that’s scary as shit. I reached back awkwardly and rested my hand on his knee, the only part of him I could reach, and I held on the rest of the way to the hospital.

>>>>>>>

We lucked out finding a spot close to the door, so rather than waste time with wheelchairs, we just half carried, half dragged Brian between us into the emergency room. He was only sort of conscious, so they ushered us into the back right away, and a couple of nurses helped us lift him onto a stretcher while they questioned us. Justin told them that we’re deaf and needed an interpreter, but since it was an emergency, I interpreted as well as I could by lip reading until they could page one.

I was telling them what I knew, that Brian took an unknown drug at a club, that he occasionally uses ecstasy, marijuana, and poppers – history’s taught me that it’s idiotic and dangerous to hide anything during a medical emergency, even if it’s illegal – when Brian jerked up, darting his eyes around in a panic. He was clearly looking for Justin, who’d been standing next to him holding his hand the whole time. Justin leaned into Brian and cupped his hand around his cheek, murmuring to him, but with his back turned, I couldn’t see what he was saying. Brian shook his head once, that same confused look on his face, and then closed his eyes.

**I asked him what he took** , Justin signed to me, and I interpreted for the doctor, **but he didn’t seem to understand what I was asking.** He looked scared.

I elaborated, “He’s been like this since the club, confused and scared, and he keeps blacking out and we can’t keep him awake.”

With my less than stellar ASL and English skills, even attempting to simcom is pretty pointless, so Justin had told me to just talk if there were things the doctors needed to know, and catch him up later. I hated doing it, but I knew he’d be mad if I slowed down because I was trying to include him.

The doctor did a cursory examination of Brian, shaking his shoulder and calling his name – unresponsive – pulling up his eyelid to check his pupillary response (took a while to communicate that one to Justin) – normal, thank god – and running a pen up the sole of his foot to check his reflexes – also normal – temperature – normal. Pulse – slow. Blood pressure – low.

Since they didn’t know what he’d taken or how much, they told us they were going to start their standard procedure for overdoses. I felt all the blood drain from my face when the doctor said “overdose”, and I saw it drain from Justin’s a few seconds later when I signed it to him. It’s one thing to know that’s what you’re seeing, it’s a whooole other thing to hear a medical professional say it.

They ordered a boatload of tests and then kicked us out of the room to pump Brian’s stomach, telling us someone would be out with an update as soon as they knew anything.

As we headed out to the waiting room, I kind of couldn’t believe how calm Justin was. I’d had to grab his arm when they’d told us they were going to shove a tube down Brian’s throat to get any residual drugs out of his stomach, but that was for me, _I’d_ needed _him_ in that moment. Justin had looked pale, but fine. I realized that I’d never seen him take care of Brian like this, and his calmness struck me as odd, because he’s usually an anxious mess about everything.

When we got to the waiting room though, I realized it was just an in-the-moment calm, because as soon as the momentum of the emergency came to a crashing halt and we had nothing to do but sit there and wait, Justin was jumping out of his skin. I pulled him down into the chair beside me while his eyes kept darting back to the door we’d just come through, obviously ready to run back to Brian’s cubicle as soon as we were allowed. I put my hand on his knee, trying to settle him a little, and he finally looked at me and said, **Tell me what happened.**

Okay, deep breath, here goes.

**I wasn’t with him when he took… whatever it was. We’d been dancing, and this guy was cruising him hard, so he checked if I’d be okay for a bit, and then he went to the back room. He came back like, 20 minutes later? All freaked out. He was sweaty – sweatier than he should have been – and he was shaking a little, like, trembling, and when I asked if he was okay, he just said we had to go. And I should have just followed him, but I was freaked out too, so I stopped him and asked what happened, and he said he’d done something really stupid and we had to go, and he started pulling my toward the door, so we got in a cab and I asked him what he did _again_ , and he said he “took something bad” from the trick, but his signing was really sloppy by then, and then, he collapsed. And, **I shrugged, **you know the rest.**

Justin stood up and starting pacing while he yelled. **Christ, he is _always_ fucking on me about being reckless. What the fuck does he think he’s doing taking drugs from a random trick? WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?!**

He made a move to run back to the patient area, to make sure Brian was still alive or to strangle him, I didn’t know, so I stood in front of him and grabbed his wrists loosely in a way I hoped was comforting. And maybe a little restraining. Before either of us could do anything else though, a doctor come out of the back and headed toward us, thank god, because I didn’t have any idea how I was going to calm him down.

It wasn’t the same doctor as before, so I wasn’t sure she was there for us until she said “Brian Kinney’s family?” I nodded and introduced us, “I’m Evan,” signing my name at the same time, about as much simcomming as I can handle, “and this is Justin, his husband,” signing his. Apparently they hadn’t been able to find an interpreter yet, but whatever, we weren’t waiting for that to hear what was going on.

“We pumped Brian’s stomach, and we’re running his bloodwork now. We performed an EKG to make sure his heart is working properly – that can be an issue with overdoses—” I squeezed Justin’s hand before going back to signing “–and we’ve run some neurological tests. The good news is that everything is normal so far, normal EKG, normal neurological responses. We’re just waiting for the bloodwork now.”

Jesus, I was doing my best, but I was struggling to interpret fast enough, and Justin was watching me so intently. At least being with an epileptic ensured that I’d signed ‘neurological’ before, so silver lining I guess? I was grateful when the doctor smiled at me and slowed down; I must have looked as anxious as I felt.

“He was lightly sedated during the tests and while we pumped his stomach, but we’ve backed him off that now. He was still unconscious when I came out here, but he’s doing well so far. We’ll know more when we get the bloodwork back, which should be in an hour or so, and when he wakes up, which should be any time now. You’re welcome to go back and wait with him.”

**Is he unconscious now because of the sedation or because of the drugs?**

“By the time you get back there, the sedation will have worn off, so if he’s not conscious, it’s because of whatever drugs are still in his system, or possibly just from pure exhaustion, frankly, this has certainly taken a toll on him. But like I said, his neurological responses have all been normal, and until we have his bloodwork back, there’s no need to do anything more.”

We thanked her while she walked into the back with us, and then she excused herself and went into another cubicle while we continued down the hall. We were almost back to where we’d left Brian when we saw a commotion up ahead, and one of the nurses who’d helped us when we first arrived stopped us before we could go any farther. He tried to usher us back down the hallway, but we saw into the cubicle before he blocked our view.

Brian was having a seizure.

Any remaining calm Justin might have had evaporated and he freaked out, wrenching away from me and trying to run into the cubicle, screaming that he’s his husband and he needs to be with him. They blocked his path but otherwise ignored us, so I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight while we watched from the doorway. We were both shaking, and if they hadn’t let us in as soon as it was over, they’d have had a mutiny on their hands. Luckily (for them), they stepped aside as soon as it stopped, and I was so fucking relieved when Brian focused on Justin right away. Justin leaned over him and said, “Hey, baby,” stroking his face, and I could tell that he couldn’t not touch Brian in that moment.

Brian looked around and seemed to register for the first time that he was in a hospital, and he gave Justin that panicked look again.

**What the fuck?**

“It’s okay baby, you’re fine.”

**I’m fine? What…?**

He didn’t even know what to ask.

**Sunshine?** he pleaded.

He was obviously postictal and couldn’t really follow what was going on, and I think his brain couldn’t reconcile why he was in a hospital with Justin, like he’d been so many times before, but this time he was the one in the bed and Justin was the one standing there holding his hand. Justin brushed some damp hair off Brian’s sweaty forehead and then left his hand there, stroking gently while he said, “I’m right here. You can sleep, everything’s okay.”

**Nooo,** Brian signed, and he started to cry. Justin cries sometimes after seizures too, which really freaked me out the first time because I thought he’d hurt himself, but it’s just an aftereffect of his misfiring brain. Even so, my stomach dropped, and I saw pain flash across Justin’s face. He just kept stroking Brian’s face and hair, and I squeezed Brian’s other hand. He looked at me for the first time then, staring for a few seconds before signing **Evan** and looking back at Justin – “Yeah, Evan’s here, too” – and I watched the doctor and nurse flit around checking monitors and wires. 

They took Brian for an MRI after he’d fallen asleep – I’m honestly not sure Justin would have let them take him if he were awake and scared and confused – and then did an EEG back in the cubicle.

We decided at some point during all that not to text our friends to tell them what was going on. It was the middle of the night, we were probably going to be taking Brian home soon anyway – god, _please_ – and as much as we know they love us, we were so drained, and we didn’t feel up to being inundated with questions and concern and well wishes. Justin’s never been great with that part of the healthy partner role, and I certainly wasn’t going to argue.

Everything died down after the EEG while we waited for all the test results. Justin migrated onto the bed with Brian and curled up half asleep, and I propped my feet up next to theirs and messed around on my phone.

>>>>>>>

_8:00 a.m._

After an eternity, the female doctor from the waiting room eventually came back – with an interpreter! – to tell us that all the test results had come back normal. The bloodwork showed that Brian had snorted a tainted batch like we’d figured. I didn’t understand the exact details of what was in it, but I definitely understood the doctor’s smile when she told us that he’d be fine, and he shouldn’t have any lasting physical or cognitive effects from the overdose.

Since it had been hours since the seizure and he hadn’t had another one, and his blood pressure and pulse were back to normal thanks to fluids and rest, they let us take him home after promising to keep an eye on him. I almost laughed when they said that, as if Justin would be letting Brian out of his sight anytime soon. They told us not to expect him to be back to his normal self for a few more days, and that he’d be tired and confused for a while, and possibly nauseous and/or have stomach cramping and vomiting from getting his stomach pumped.

The whole time they were telling us all of that, mind you, Brian was looking back and forth between the doctor speaking, the interpreter signing, and me and Justin watching the interpreter, with his brow furrowed in confusion like his brain wasn’t working fast enough to put all the pieces together. Which, honestly, it probably wasn’t. By the time the doctor left with promises of discharge papers, Brian had fallen back asleep.

Justin finally texted Emily then to let her know that Brian was sick and wouldn’t be coming into work.

Justin never did put on his mask. And that’s not ominous foreshadowing or anything, he didn’t get sick, I just want to give you all the details. He wanted to be able to speak to Brian, so he didn’t wear his mask. Sweet, but we both know Brian would kill him if he ever remembered that.

Justin played with Brian’s hair and watched him sleep while we waited for the discharge papers, and when they came, he woke him up really gently, like Brian always does with him. We helped him get dressed, Justin easing on his pants, me pulling his black tank down over his head, and Justin was so calm and quiet, even though I knew he was so, so worried, and so pissed at Brian for taking those drugs. He and Brian are just so good at being what the other one needs in the moment.

He can tear him a new one later, when Brian’s lucid enough to take it.

Brian was still a little confused and slow, but he was much more aware than he had been, and he pitched a fit when we got out to the car and put him into the passenger seat, and Justin walked around to the driver’s side.

**Tell me you did not fucking drive here.**

**…**

**I thought I wasn’t supposed to lie to you anymore.**

**Jesus fucking Christ, Justin, you could have gotten us all killed!**

Okay, true, but.

**I was watching him. You were really sick, I’d been drinking…**

**I don’t think I was that sick** , Brian grumbled, but he shut up and just darted some menacing glances at Justin on the way home. I think we were all too tired to argue at that point.

>>>>>>>

_10:00 a.m._

When we got home, Justin helped Brian take a shower – he was pretty gross from splitting his night between a dance floor, a back room, and a hospital – and then put him to bed. Brian had bought a shower stool a while back for when Justin’s either too sick or tired or out of it to stand through a whole shower, and Justin told me Brian had had to use it for the first time ever (first time for its intended purpose, presumably), and he was half asleep by the time Justin was done washing him. They have blackout curtains in their bedroom because Justin sleeps so much during the day, and since it was almost 10 a.m. and sunny by the time he got Brian into bed, I couldn’t help thinking how Brian was really benefiting that morning from having Justin as his partner. I mean, he benefits from having Justin as his partner every single day, but, you know. 

When Justin laid down with Brian to sleep for a few hours, I went downstairs to shower off the sweaty, antiseptic-y club/hospital funk and take a nap.

>>>>>>>

_3:00 p.m._

I fell asleep as soon as I got into bed, and when I went upstairs five hours later, Justin and Brian were sitting at the kitchen table, both shirtless, both looking like they’d been hit by a truck. Brian had his head propped up on one hand while he picked at what looked like scrambled eggs – I glanced around and noticed more on the stove and extra toast on the counter – and Justin was gently nagging him to eat.

**Come on, just finish the eggs.**

**Tell me what happened.**

**Brian…**

**Why won’t you tell me what happened? I don’t remember… Jesus, I don’t even know what I don’t remember! Come on, you know how this feels.**

At the time, I thought he was just referring to Justin’s postictal memory loss. I didn’t figure out until later that he was talking about Justin’s reaction to not remembering the night of the bashing. After I figured that out, the pained look Justin gave him then made a lot more sense.

**I promise I’ll tell you everything when you’re feeling better. But you didn’t sleep well, and you’re upset, and—**

**I’m upset because I don’t know what the fuck happened to me last night!**

Justin flinched and gave Brian this devastated look, and Brian’s face softened as he reached for Justin’s hand. He hates scaring Justin, he’s got all this baggage about it because of his abusive dad, and Justin’s PTSD.

**Fuck. I’m sorry, Sunshine. I just… I need to know, you know?**

I sat down with them and I swear they both jumped a little, apparently not having noticed me come upstairs, and I looked at Justin, knowing he might lose it if he had to explain. Anger or tears or both, I wasn’t sure. Probably both.

**I can help. I was there.**

Justin nodded, so I turned to Brian and asked him what he remembered, and what Justin had told him.

**Can you just… tell me everything?**

He looked so tired and sad, and Jesus, I don’t think I’d ever felt that protective of him.

**Okay. We went out dancing, and this trick was cruising you for a while, so eventually you went to the back room with him. Maybe 20 minutes later, you came out looking all freaked out, and you said we had to go. You said… I think you said you’d done something stupid, and we had to go home. So we got in a cab, and you told me you’d “taken something bad” from the trick and… and then you blacked out. And then you woke up and asked for Justin, you didn’t understand why he wasn’t there.**

Brian and Justin both looked really sad when I said that, and Justin squeezed Brian’s hand. I know they don’t like being apart even under normal circumstances, but when one of them is sick or hurt… god, it’s like, physically painful for them. And they have this weird guilt dynamic that they’ve been working on, and I know right then Brian felt guilty for making Justin sad that he wasn’t there, and Justin felt guilty about Brian being sad and scared when he wasn’t with him. I swear, these two. Anyway.

**We got home, and as soon as Justin saw you, he said we were going to the hospital, so we got you in the car and—**

**Right, explain to me why Justin drove?** Brian looked annoyed and was staring at Justin, so he jumped in, ticking off points on his fingers.

**Evan had been had been partying and is still fucking terrified of driving anyway, a cab would’ve taken too long at that time of night, besides which you were fucking unconscious, how were we supposed to explain that to a cab driver? And you sure as hell wouldn’t have wanted us to call an ambulance.** When Brian didn’t argue, Justin continued more gently. **Evan was right there in the passenger seat, and I’d been feeling fine. The hospital’s not far. It was worth the risk.**

Brian watched him for few seconds without comment, and then he sighed and made a ‘please continue’ gesture in my direction.

**So… we got to the hospital and your—you were unresponsive, but your pupilary?** – I fingerspelled it hesitantly, glancing at Justin, who spelled it correctly for me – **thanks, pupillary** **response was normal, and your reflexes were normal, but your blood pressure and pulse were low. They took some blood, and did an EKG, aaand… they pumped your stomach, because that’s standard for overdoses** – Brian flinched and looked guiltily at Justin, who swallowed hard – **oh, and they sedated you for all that. They made us leave the room when they pumped your stomach—**

**Good.**

**And then…** I looked at Justin, who looked on the verge of tears, silently asking him if he wanted to do this part. Brian looked between us, confused, and Justin finally laced his fingers through Brian’s and squeezed for a second before saying, **and then you had a seizure.**

**I… what?** Brian looked genuinely confused.

Justin took a deep breath. **After they pumped your stomach, we were heading back to your room when one of the nurses tried to stop us, but we could see through the curtain, and… you were having a seizure. It’s pretty common after overdoses. That happened to Ted, right, right after I met you guys?**

Justin had morphed from teary to pretty emotionless over the course of three sentences, which worried me, and I’m pretty sure my face mirrored Brian’s as we watched him.

**When it stopped, they did an EEG and an MRI and they were normal, and then your bloodwork came back and they said you’d taken contaminated drugs, like we thought. You slept off the seizure, and when you hadn’t had another one, and your blood pressure and pulse were back to normal, they let us take you home. We got back around 9:30, we took a shower, went to bed, and now…** he gestured around.

I realized that at some point I’d put my hand on Brian’s where it was resting on the table, so I squeezed it and he shot me a small smile before getting up and walking around the table to Justin. He pulled him up from his chair and wrapped his arms around him, tight, and I could see that Justin was shaking while Brian rubbed his back. Brian pulled back after a minute and rested his forehead against Justin’s and they locked eyes, like they do sometimes, and I looked away, feeling like I was intruding on something private. I glanced back to see Brian sign, small, **Fuck, Sunshine. I am so, so sorry.**

Without pulling away, Justin asked, **Why the fuck did you do it?** And then he started to cry, even though I could tell he was trying so hard not to. **What have you always told me? Never take drugs from anyone but you. Never take drugs _with_ anyone I don’t know. What the fuck happened? **

Brian had tears in his eyes, and he didn’t really have anything to say. **I’m so sorry, Sunshine. I really wish I had an answer. And I _really_ wish I remembered taking it.**

I got up to make myself a plate, and that seemed to break them out of the moment, because they pulled apart and started clearing off the table. Brian picked up his plate and headed toward the sink, but he was a little unsteady, so I wasn’t surprised when Justin took the plate out of his hands and nodded toward their bedroom, raising one eyebrow as if daring Brian to argue. Brian glanced between Justin, me, and the table full of dirty dishes, but after a few seconds, he just sighed and trudged toward the bedroom, probably grateful for the excuse to lie back down.

Justin cleaned up while I ate, and then we both sort of puttered around doing nothing, neither of us able to settle down and really concentrate on anything. Every few minutes, Justin would wander over to their bedroom, glance inside, and sign **sleeping** or **still sleeping** to no one in particular.

>>>>>>>

_6:30 p.m._

By the time Brian emerged a few hours later, looking rumpled but considerably better rested, Justin had moved on from confusion and fear to anger and, well, fear. He’d been snapping at me for the past hour, since he couldn’t snap at a sick, sleeping Brian.

Brian, obviously, sensed Justin’s mood the second he came into the living room, but he ignored him and came to sit beside me on the couch. I thought at first that he was just avoiding Justin’s wrath for a few more minutes, but then he looked at me with this really sad look on his face and said **I’m so fucking sorry.**

**Brian, you don’t have to—**

**No, I do. I’m so sorry, Evan. I know that was really fucking scary for you, and I shouldn’t have put you through that.**

He was looking at me like he was actually worried I wouldn’t accept his apology. And it’s funny, I _know_ Brian cares about me, and that he likes having me around, but for a man as physically affectionate as he is, it’s not something he acknowledges out loud very often. Remember when he gave me my med alert bracelet with his phone number on it and told me not to be a little bitch about it? That’s how Brian shows affection verbally.

So, I took my opening and hugged him tight, and he immediately wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. I pulled back after a few seconds and said, **It was really fucking scary. But I’m really glad I was there.**

He gave me a small smile and said **I’m really glad you were too, god. Imagine?**

I’d been trying really hard not to, actually.

**Thank you for bringing me home. For bringing me…** he trailed off with a nod and gesture toward where Justin was standing by the kitchen table, watching us.

**Brian, of course.**

He squeezed my hand before he stood up, and I almost laughed when he took a deep breath to steel himself for Justin’s fury. I really didn’t want to eavesdrop, but Justin ended up yelling so forcefully it was hard not to watch. And honestly, I was curious to know what I might be in for if I ever did anything that stupid.

Brian just stood in front of Justin waiting for him to make the first move, and I saw the flash of surprise on his face when Justin lunged forward and hugged him like he was never going to let him go.

But then he broke away, took a step back, and shouted **YOU COULD HAVE FUCKING DIED, BRIAN! WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?! WHAT IF YOU HAD BLACKED OUT BEFORE YOU FOUND EVAN? WHAT IF YOU FUCKING BLACKED OUT IN THE BACK ROOM AND THE TRICK FREAKED AND TOOK OFF AND LEFT YOU THERE?**

He was wheezing, from the exertion of shouting and from the panic we could see plainly on his face, and I could tell it was taking every ounce of willpower Brian had not to push him into a chair. I saw him glance at the lump of Justin’s inhaler in his pocket, and I know we were both relieved when Justin had lost some of his fire when he went on.

**What if you had stopped breathing? Anyfuckingthing could have happened to you. Do you have any idea what it felt like to leave you alone in a fucking hospital when you were terrified and had no idea what was going on, so they could sedate you and pump your stomach? And then to watch you have a seizure surrounded by strangers, because they wouldn’t even let me be with you?** His eyes were red and watery, but he was determinedly not crying. **Fuck, Brian. You could have died. Or fallen into a coma, look what happened to Ted! And… you really scared Evan.**

Okay, no. I mean, yes, he scared the shit out of me, but I did not want Justin using me to guilt Brian. He’s more than capable of that all on his own.

**I know, Sunshine, and I apologized to him. I wish I hadn’t done that to him.** He looked to Justin for some kind of response, but Justin just stood there watching him, and after a few seconds of strained silence Brian’s face changed, and he turned to me, looking completely shattered for some reason. He came back over and hugged me tightly. He was trembling a little, but I made sure to wipe the worried look off my face before he pulled away, and I said, **I’m okay** to him before turning to Justin and very pointedly saying, **I’m okay.**

But Brian was still looking at me, and when I turned back at him, he said, **No, I… I didn’t even think about Adam.**

Oof.

I closed my eyes and breathed out slowly.

When I opened them, Brian was still in front of me, looking nervous as hell, and Justin was watching me with a mildly concerned expression that told me that Adam had occurred to him long before this moment.

Brian started, **I didn’t mean to bring up any bad—**

**It’s okay, Brian. I don’t want to talk about it, okay? What happened with you was totally different, you haven’t like, retraumatized me or anything.**

I squeezed his arm and sat back down on the couch, suddenly exhausted. He looked like he wanted to say more, but thankfully he just gave me a small, uncertain smile before turning back to Justin. And I have to give Brian credit here, because as soon as he turned back around, Justin turned his slightly concerned gaze from me and fixed an absolutely murderous gaze on Brian. It would have been more than enough to keep me well out of range, but Brian walked right back over to him – although, yeah, kind of slowly – and said, **Sunshine…**

**You know you can’t… You can’t be as reckless as you used to be! You have fucking responsibilities, Brian, whether you like it or not.**

**Sunshine, it wasn’t about—**

**YOU HAVE A SON. YOU HAVE A BUSINESS. HOW MANY EMPLOYEES DEPEND ON YOU? YOUR FRIENDS!**

Great, he was shouting again. Wheezing again. Justin needed to get this out, but I wondered how long Brian would let him go on like this, with his breathing like that.

**AND WHAT ABOUT _US_ BRIAN? WHAT THE FUCK ARE EVAN AND I SUPPOSED TO DO IF YOU GO AND KILL YOURSELF? YOU KNOW I HATE PUTTING THIS ON YOU, BUT THIS IS OUR REALITY, BRIAN! I WOULD LITERALLY FUCKING DIE WITHOUT—WITHOUT YOU KEEPING ME ALIVE! For fuck’s sake, Brian! You promised to fucking _KILL ME FIRST_.**

Justin brought a shaking hand to his heaving chest and doubled over, and as if to illustrate his point, before I could even really react, Brian had pushed Justin into a chair, pulled his inhaler out of his pocket, and pushed it into his hand. I went into the kitchen to get Justin a glass of water while Brian helped him steady the inhaler and rubbed circles on his back.

When he looked at me, I tried to reassure him. **Everyone’s okay. Brian’s going to be stuck taking care of us for a looong time.** I tried to make a joke of it with my tone because I knew it was presumptuous, but Brian was nodding beside Justin without a trace of a smirk on his face.

Huh.

Justin sipped the water and nodded, his eyes shining.

**I hope so,** he said, after setting his inhaler on the table. But he still looked…

**Anxious** Brian said to me, small, seeing me studying Justin’s face. **I’m gonna…** he trailed off, nodding toward Justin, then he gently pulled him to his feet and led him into their bedroom.

One universal truth about Justin Taylor is that he responds to physical comfort. Holding him, rubbing his back, playing with his hair, all tried and true methods of calming him down when he’s sad, or panicky, or anxious. After we’d gotten serious, he told me that sometimes the only thing in the world that will calm him down is sex with Brian. Brian _making love_ to him, he’d clarified with a wink. He hadn’t given me details, but I know it has something to do with the bashing, with how Brian took care of him afterward when he was still really traumatized.

So I was pretty sure they were in the bedroom fucking.

I ordered pizza a while later when I realized I was starving, and I figured it’d be easy for them to grab whenever they woke up. None of us had eaten since our mid-afternoon breakfast, and it’s not a good idea for either of them to go too long without food. Justin just plain can’t afford to skip meals, and Brian, well, Brian gets grouchy.

>>>>>>>

_9:00 p.m._

Brian came out of their room a couple hours later looking even more rumpled, and just as tired as he had earlier. I’d been flipping through one of Justin’s art books on the couch, not really sure what to do with myself. I was tired, too, but more fatigued-tired, not sleepy-tired, and I’d wanted to be upstairs in case they needed something. I normally don’t worry about them like that, I mean, Brian’s _always_ got everything under control, but… he wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders.

I jumped up and followed him when he shuffled off to the kitchen to get a drink, and I noticed that his hand was shaking a little when he raised the water bottle to his lips.

**Are you hungry? I got pizza.**

He grimaced and shook his head, and I wondered if he was feeling nauseous.

**How are you feeling?**

**Fanfuckingtastic,** he said, not sarcastically, just… miserably.

**Brian, go back to bed.**

He gave me a look that did absolutely nothing to cow me. **I’ve been sleeping all fucking day.**

**Yeah, and how long does Justin sleep after a big seizure? And none of his have ever followed an overdose and getting his stomach pumped, which I’d bet good money would earn you a full day of sleep all on their own.**

**… What kind of seizure was it?**

**Complex partial, I think.**

He nodded, leaning back against the counter. He still looked so tired, but now that he’d slept a little more, he was apparently feeling more up to arguing.

**I can’t sleep all day.**

**Sure you can, if Justin’s anything to go by. And anyway, the doctor said it’d be a few days before you felt completely normal.**

He looked surprised. I guess Justin hadn’t told him what they’d told us at discharge.

**What else did she say?**

**Nothing really, just that you need to rest for a few days, that you’ll be tired and confused, and then you’ll be fine. _In a few days._ Oh, and you might have some stomach pain and nausea from getting your stomach pumped.**

**Christ.**

**Brian…** God, he looked exhausted.

**Was I an asshole?**

**What?**

**Justin’s usually an asshole after…**

Huh. I hadn’t thought about that at the hospital, with everything going on.

**No, actually. You…** Should I tell him? His damn pride.

**What?**

**You cried. Like Justin does, and you slept. But you weren’t an asshole, you were just… scared.**

He stared at me, his face blank, for long enough that I was beginning to feel like I should say something else, when he looked away and said **Fuck** , rubbing his hand over his mouth.

**Brian.**

…

“Brian.”

Nothing. I stepped into his line of sight and waited for him to look at me.

“Go back to bed. Is Justin sleeping?” He nodded. “Good, go be with him. He needs you right now.”

And fuck, I almost wish I hadn’t said that, because the guilt and anguish that washed over his face made my stomach drop.

“Brian, why don’t you want to go back to sleep? You’re always pushing Justin off to bed.”

**That’s why.** And god, he looked so young and scared. **It’s my job to take care of him. I’m supposed to protect him, keep him safe. I’m supposed to _be_ safe. And now… How can he trust me?**

**Brian… You’ve messed up before, right? He trusts you. He knows you’re human.**

I wasn’t sure if that was the right strategy, but what the hell, it wasn’t news to anyone.

He was still trembling a little, and there was a sheen of sweat on his face from the effort of standing and talking and worrying, so I took a step toward him.

**Come sit down at least.**

**No, I can’t—I can’t just fucking… _rest_ all day when I did this to myself. It’s not like I have the flu, Evan, I fucking did this to myself, and now, what? I’m going to leave him to fucking fend for himself because I made a fucking awful decision?**

Um, hello? Who does he think takes care of Justin when he’s out of town?

**Justin’s a big boy you know, he can take care of himself for a few days. And even if he can’t, he wouldn’t be alo—**

**He already had a nightmare. An hour ago. And we’re fucking lucky he didn’t have a panic attack earlier.**

I guess we’d have to come back to his complete disregard for my presence in Justin’s life later.

**I can’t believe I did this. I can’t believe I scared him like this,** he said, shaking his head.

“Brian, it’s okay. You scared him, you didn’t hurt him. All he really cares about is that you’re okay. You know that, right? And you’re going to be fine, so he’s going to be fine. You’re exhausted, and upset, and you probably still feel kind of sick. This won’t look so bad tomorrow, I promise.”

His eyes were shiny while he watched me, but he didn’t argue.

Which I realized a minute later may have been less because he agreed with what I’d said, and more because he didn’t have the energy to keep arguing, because before I could nudge him back to bed, he swayed alarmingly. I stepped forward to grab him around the waist, and he gripped my upper arms to steady himself, letting out a shaky breath. Just as I was about to help him back to bed, he dropped his forehead onto my shoulder and let out a pained groan loud enough for me to hear.

“Brian, what’s wrong?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

He just shook his head against my shoulder, and a second later he lurched away from me and vomited into the sink.

Aww, shit.

I ran some cool water over a paper towel and draped it over the back of his neck, then I rubbed his back and waited for it to pass. He was still heaving and dripping sweat when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, and I turned to see Justin hurrying toward us.

**He’s okay,** I said quickly, **he threw up because of the stomach pumping, remember what the doctor said? He’s okay.**

Justin came up to Brian’s other side and brushed his hair off his forehead. **Let’s go back to bed.**

There were tears on Brian’s face when he looked at Justin, and I don’t know if it was from the vomiting, or from the overwhelming guilt he felt about letting Justin down, but whatever it was, Justin’s face softened and he ran his fingers through Brian’s sweaty hair.

**Come on, let’s go lay down.**

He wrapped an arm around Brian’s waist and led him back to bed. 

>>>>>>>

_10:00 p.m._

About 20 minutes later, Justin came back out to the living room wearing one of Brian’s old black tank tops and gym shorts. I’ve always thought it was sweet how he wears Brian’s clothes when he’s looking for comfort. When he’s worried about Brian, or misses him, or when he’s not feeling well.

He went into the kitchen and looked in the sink before turning to me. **You cleaned the sink?**

**Of course.**

He flopped on the couch next to me and wiggled into my side. **Thanks,** he sighed, scrunching down and laying his head on my shoulder. **He cried a little before he fell asleep. And I don’t… I just wish I knew if it was because he’s in pain, or because he’s upset, or just because he’s still sort of out of it? I hate not knowing what to do for him.**

His hands were shaking a little, so I squeezed one before telling him, **He’s really upset.**

He sat up a little. **What do you mean?**

**He feels really guilty, like he let you down. He’s afraid you won’t trust him anymore. You know how Brian thinks it’s entirely on his shoulders to protect you? To ‘keep you safe’, in his words? And now he… I think he was trying to say that he betrayed you. And he was really, really upset about that.**

**Shit,** he said, chuckling a little. **God knows he’s fucked up before. I mean, I think this might be the worst he’s ever scared me… he fucking scared the shit out of me.** He shrugged. **But he didn’t betray me. Jesus. _Of course_ I trust him. I trust him more than—**he broke off and shot me a guilty look.

I laughed, because he is completely ridiculous sometimes. **More than anyone? Justin, he’s your husband. You’ve been together for what, thirteen years? He’s literally saved your life, more than once. I _hope_ you trust him more than anyone. But I think that’s what he’s scared about, that you won’t anymore. **

**Then he’s a goddamn idiot. I mean, we knew that already, case in point, but for this now, too, apparently.**

He slid his feet into my lap, and I started rubbing them without really thinking about it. He gets so knotted up from the seizures, and even though he’d only had small ones for the last couple of weeks, I don’t know. It’s just habit to try to make him feel good.

**What did you say to him?**

**When he was out here before?**

**Yeah, when he told you all this.**

**What you just said, basically. That he’s messed up before, and you still trust him. And you _will_ still trust him. **I smirked. **That you know he’s human, in spite of how hard he tried to hide that in the beginning,** and Justin chuckled. **I tried to reassure him, but I’m not sure how much he really listened. You know how he is.**

He snorted. **God, yeah.**

**We have to make him rest, though.**

**I know, he’s never been good about that. He’s usually just pissed off when he’s sick.**

**Well yeah, that too, but when we were talking earlier, he said that he’s, like, not going to let himself rest.**

**What do you mean?**

**I don’t remember exactly what he said, mostly because it was right before he threw up and I was busy worrying about how bad he looked, but he was saying that he did this to himself, so he’s not allowed to not be okay. Like, it’s not like he has the flu, this was self-inflicted, so he has no excuse for not taking care of you like he always does. I don’t think he’s going to let himself take it easy unless we force him to. Or unless he literally falls over, like he almost did earlier.**

Justin let out a long, resigned sigh. **Okay. He’s going to be an asshole about it, so be prepared. God, the few times I’ve taken care of him… he makes it _so_ fucking hard. You have to figure out how to take care of him without him feeling like you’re taking care of him, even though he _knows_ you’re taking care of him. It’s this whole farce we have to put on so he doesn’t feel vulnerable and dependent and freak out. And now with this whole added layer of guilt… ugh.**

And honestly, as much of a pain as I knew he was going to be, I got it. I mean, it’s not why I prefer taking care of myself when I’m sick, but I get it, when he grew up the way he did. I didn’t have touchy-feely, snuggle-with-you-when-you’re-sick parents either, so it wasn’t something I grew up expecting, like Justin did. So on top of all that internalized tough-men-don’t-need-help macho bullshit (which, credit where credit’s due, Brian has made a lot of progress on), there’s always the lingering worry about what if he likes it? What if he gets comfortable being taken care of and then something happens and he suddenly doesn’t have that anymore? As fucked as Adam and I were in the grand scheme of things, we always took care of each other the best we could. And then he died, and... So, yeah. I got it.

>>>>>>>

_11:00 p.m._

Justin and I kind of zoned out on the couch for a while, tangled up together, but I don’t think either of us were actually asleep when Brian appeared. He looked slightly better this time, steadier, not sweating or shaking.

Justin brightened at the sight of him and jumped up. **How are you feeling?**

**Better.**

**Do you want pizza? Or something else? You should eat something.**

He nodded, **I think I can stomach some pizza.**

**Good, go sit with Evan,** and he stretched up to kiss Brian on the cheek before giving him a little push in my direction.

I was a little surprised when he came right over and sat down without a word of protest about how he can get his own damn pizza, but I figured he was probably still feeling guilty enough to let Justin call the shots for a while. Not that Justin doesn’t usually call the shots, but, you know.

We watched a random sitcom rerun while we ate, and after a while, I moved to the armchair so Brian could lay down with his head in Justin’s lap. I burrowed under a blanket, and I drifted off watching Justin run his fingers through Brian’s hair.

I woke up sometime later to Justin shaking me gently.

**Go to bed, it’s almost midnight.**

Brian was sitting on the couch with his head in his hand, watching us through half-closed eyes. I headed downstairs hoping he’d sleep through the night, and that no one would have any nightmares.

>>>>>>>

_Saturday_

I skipped my run the next morning, but I headed up for breakfast at my normal time, miraculously almost back on a normal sleep schedule after the chaos of yesterday.

It was dark and still upstairs, which I took as a good sign. It was earlier than Justin and Brian usually get up on the weekend anyway, and if it were up to me, Brian would stay in bed all day.

I started the coffee, fixed myself a bowl of oatmeal, and had just sat down to eat when Justin came out of their room looking rumpled and tired. He crossed in front of a window on his way to the kitchen, and when the sunlight hit his hair… god. Is luminescent too strong a word? Daphne taught it to me one drunken, giggly night a few weeks ago.

I shook myself a little and focused back on the task at hand.

**How’s he doing?**

He shrugged, **He slept most of the night, and he’s sleeping now, thank god. He had a nightmare around four that woke him up in a cold sweat, and he was really confused about where he was for a while, so that wasn’t fun, but he only woke up that one time.**

**Good. Hopefully he’ll sleep for a few more hours.**

He shrugged and nodded. **He was completely out when I got up, so, yeah, hopefully.**

He poured himself a cup of coffee and then kissed me on the cheek before sitting down across from me, looking serious and concerned.

**So, listen. Do you want to talk about Adam?**

I put my spoon down and took a sip of my juice before I looked at him.

**Honestly? I don’t know. Sort of, because yeah of course it freaked me out to see Brian lying unconscious on a hospital bed while a doctor talked about overdosing. But also not really, because I don’t want to think about it so much that every time I see Brian having a good time, I think about Adam.**

**I get that. God, do I get that. Do you want to talk to Brian about it? Or scream at Brian about it? I’d totally support that.**

I laughed a little, and felt a little better. **No, I just… what happened with Adam was so horrible, so… it just never occurred to me that I’d have to deal with something like this with Brian. It probably should have, with all the drugs I’ve seen him do, but…**

**Evan… I really think you should talk to Brian.**

**Yeah, maybe. I’m gonna go for a run, are you okay here?**

**Um, yeah, but Evan—**

I got up to dump my dishes in the sink and ran downstairs with an **I’ll see you later!** thrown carelessly back at him.

He was right, I did need to talk to Brian. I didn’t really want to, and I hadn’t really known I needed to until he pushed it, but he was right. Now that the immediate emergency was long over and my mind had time to slow down, it was dawning on me just how freaked out I was.

I ran for as long as I could, and then I walked around for a while longer thinking. Remembering.

By the time I’d gone home and showered, it was lunchtime, so I went upstairs cautiously, hoping Justin wasn’t pissed at me for walking out earlier. I really could have handled that better. 

They were lying on the couch together, Brian leaning up against Justin while Justin played with his hair. Brian shot me a small smile when Justin jumped up and came over to me, giving me a tight hug and a kiss before apologizing for pushing me earlier.

**I didn’t mean to upset you, I just… I’ve had some experience with the aftermath of Brian bottling stuff up,** Justin let out a nervous chuckle, **and I don’t want that to happen here.**

**No, it’s fine, I’m sorry I walked out like that. I just… I needed to think. You’re right, I should talk to Brian about it. Is he, should I wait?**

Justin nodded, his hair falling across his eyes for a second before he swept it behind his ear. **I would, yeah. I mean, you can try, but he’s exhausted and drained right now, and he’s probably still fired up from ripping me a new one for not wearing my mask at the hospital, so…**

I groaned, **he remembered that?**

**So it would seem,** Justin said wryly. **We talked for a while while you were gone. It took some convincing, but I think I finally got it through to him that I still trust him. You were totally right, he feels like he betrayed me.** He rolled his eyes. **But I think he needs to hear it from you too, he’s really freaked about freaking you out. Just, maybe not right now.**

**Yeah, okay. I don’t know why he thinks it’s solely his responsibility to… to whatever. You know,** I shrugged.

He laughed, **Yeah, I do. Listen, I was just about to make some soup for lunch. Do you mind sitting with him?**

**Yeah, of course,** I said, steeling myself.

Justin gave me a soft look and squeezed my hand before heading to the kitchen.

**Oh, and,** he said, turning back to me, **he’s been shivering all morning. I looked it up and it’s normal, but make sure he stays under the blanket.**

**Okay.**

**Hi,** I said, sitting down next to Brian while he swung his legs around to the coffee table to give me room. **How are you feeling?**

He sighed, tired, no doubt, of Justin asking him that.

**I’m okay. Tired.**

And he looked it, still. His hair was a wreck, all flat on the side that had been leaning against Justin’s chest, and his eyes were just barely open all the way. He was pale and had a nice wash of stubble across his chin, and Justin was right, he was shivering steadily, just a little, but relentlessly.

**Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t exactly look great.**

I knew I was taking my life in my hands, but whatever.

He just rolled his eyes and said, **I look like shit because I feel like shit, but I’ll survive.** And after a pause, **Thanks to you, I suppose. I’m sorry again that I put you through that. Especially considering your past…** He trailed off and watched me, silently begging me to take the opening he was giving me? Silently begging me not to?

**Can we talk about that later? There’s no rush, and I’m tired, too. Can we just hang out for now?**

He gave me a long look, but I knew he didn’t want to talk about it any more than I did, and he finally said, **Sure,** shrugging and turning back to the TV.

We sat quietly until lunch was ready, but Brian was clearly agitated, and he was snippy all through the meal. He tried to help clean up like he had yesterday, but unlike yesterday, he snapped at Justin when he tried to nudge him back to the couch. After glaring at each other for a few seconds, Brian turned around, grumbling and stomping his way back over to it, flinging himself down and crossing his arms like a toddler while Justin and I smirked at each other, trying not to laugh and piss Brian off further. Don’t get me wrong, I felt terrible that he felt so awful, but it was such a relief to see him acting like a big baby like he always does when we try to take care of him. As much of a struggle as I knew we were in for, it was reassuring to have him back.

>>>>>>>

And a struggle it was. The rest of the day was like pulling teeth to get Brian to do anything remotely resembling self-care, and despite his exhaustion, he managed to gather up enough energy to throw a fit every time we suggested he sit down, take a nap, let us take care of that. We knew we were playing with fire, but he really did need to rest, and Justin always, but especially that weekend, has a constant, underlying worry that Brian’s refusal to slow the hell down and let us share some of the weight on his shoulders will eventually catch up with him.

As annoying as Brian was being, and as frustrated as we were, neither of us wanted to snap and yell at him when we knew he was acting that way because he was hurting, and scared, and embarrassed. So to keep our sanity, we spent the rest of the day rock-paper-scissoring over whose turn it was to tell Brian to lay down, and giggling through increasingly ridiculous attempts to bribe the other one to take our turn.

Brian was sleeping hard when Justin put a lasagna in the oven for dinner, so Justin cashed in one of my bribes from earlier, and we made a game out of seeing how many times I could suck him off before the timer went off.

After we’d eaten and lazed around in front of a movie for a couple of hours, Justin caught my eye and raised an eyebrow before turning and whispering in Brian’s ear, while he slid his hand up Brian’s thigh. Brian was fading, but we knew he’d put up a fight about going to bed at 10 on a Saturday, so we’d strategized earlier. I watched in amusement as Brian perked up slightly while Justin whispered promises of blowing him under the warm spray of the shower, and then giving his still aching muscles a rubdown before tucking him in. Brian mustered up the energy to leer at Justin, and he let him pull him up without a fight.

When they walked by me, Justin smirked and signed, **Mission accomplished,** before pulling Brian into their bedroom.

>>>>>>>

_Sunday_

I’d just gotten out of my post-run shower the next morning when I sighed in relief at the smell coffee wafting into my basement. I threw on some clothes and headed upstairs, where I found Justin pulling containers out of the fridge and Brian half asleep on the couch.

I kissed Justin on the cheek on my way to grab a mug. **Morning.**

**Morning!**

**How’s he doing?** I asked, looking over at Brian.

**Well our scheme last night was a success,** he said, chuckling. **He fell asleep during the rubdown, and he slept until 3, when he kicked me awake.** He lifted the leg of his sweats to show me the bruise on his calf, and I winced sympathetically. **I wonder how long these nightmares will last. Not that I’m complaining! Obviously. I just feel bad, I know how awful they are. It wasn’t as bad as the one Friday night, but it took him more than an hour to fall back asleep. I think he’s okay today though, just tired. And he seems to be in a better mood this morning, so… maybe you should go talk to him while I make this breakfast casserole Emmett sent me the recipe for. Catch his good mood while you have the chance, you know?**

**Yeah, probably a good idea.**

I took a deep breath, gave Justin a squeeze and a kiss for courage, and sat down next to Brian on the couch. He startled awake and rewarded my hesitant **Good morning** with a **Morning** , and a kiss on the cheek.

**Can we talk? Are you up for that?**

**Of course, we can always talk. And hey, look, I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole—**

**It’s okay Brian, really. I mean, I appreciate the apology, but it’s not necessary. And that’s not what I want to talk about.**

**Okay…**

Okay, here goes I guess.

**You really scared me. I was terrified when you passed out in the cab, and then when the doctor said ‘overdose’, I thought I was going to throw up.** I took a deep breath, and I was glad he didn’t jump in. I wanted to get this out. **And I’m going to be nervous the next time we go out if I know you’re going to take something, or if I don’t know if you are. But that’s my problem, not yours. Maybe just… I’d feel better if you’d tell me if you’re planning to—**

**I’m not.**

**Not…**

**I’m not planning to take anything any time soon. I mean, I can’t guarantee I never will again, but… I’ll let you know if I do. I don’t want you to be worried every time we go out, or not want to go out because you’re worried about a repeat of Friday. I don’t want that, either.**

**Okay, well that’s… thanks.**

He waited for me to go on, but I froze, not sure how to explain the next part. After I’d lifted my hands up and dropped them back into my lap a few times, Brian gave me a kind smile and took pity on me. **So… Adam…**

**So… Adam. What happened with you is _nothing_ like what happened with him. Okay? But the first guy I loved died from an overdose, and I was kind of hoping I’d never go through that again. But—**

**I—**

**No, just listen, please. But, we’ve both partied when we’ve been out together, and I know you and Justin used to all the time. It could have been any one of us, is my point, it was just bad luck that it was you. It freaked me out that it happened, but it doesn’t really have anything to do with _you,_ you know? I’m not mad at you, and it, it doesn’t change anything here, **I said, gesturing between us. **I still trust you. I still want to go out dancing with you. I still love you. Okay?**

**Okay,** he said, fidgeting like he wanted to say more, but not sure what.

**And one more thing.** I smiled a little but kept solid eye contact so he’d know I was serious, but not upset. **Do you remember what you said last night about Justin ‘fending for himself’ while you’re in bed recovering?**

He gave me a sheepish smile, a little color coming into his face. He knew where I was going with this.

**I know, and I’m sorry about that. I know you’re here for him when I’m not. I didn’t mean to diminish your place here, I was just really angry at myself, and I worry about him, you know? Even though I know he can take care of himself 90% of the time.**

**I know, and I get it. And I’m not offended. Anymore,** I chuckled. **I know you love taking care of him and don’t really have any interest in anyone else doing it, but I want to make sure you know that I’ve got this. He’s taken care of when you need to take care of yourself, like now. That’s not something I ever want you to worry about, or beat yourself up over.**

He crinkled his eyes at me. **I do know that. And I guess now’s as good a time as any to make sure you know how happy I am about that. It’s…** he let out a nervous chuckle and looked away, **it’s… it’s a huge comfort to know there’s someone else here who loves him the same way I do. Not that that’s the only reason I’m glad you’re here! Ah, Christ.** He ran his hand down his face while I tried not to laugh.

**I know, Brian. Don’t worry, we can stop now. You’ve done really, really well, big guy,** I said, laughing outright while I ruffled his hair. I jumped out of his reach when he lunged for me, mock outrage on his face, laughing with me.

**Author's Note:**

> God that was a sappy ending, huh? 
> 
> I love comments!


End file.
